This was insanity, sheer madness, as they both knew they were destined for other people. He was compelled, all the same.
“I’m sorry you got burned,” he said, his voice low, rough, unfamiliar to his own ears.
She nodded slightly, still looking at his mouth and then her lips parted.
Greer had to give in to whatever this was between them. Leaning forward, this time with his hands free to sink into her hair, which he did, he held her head steady and captured her soft mouth under his.
Beatrice didn’t protest. She snaked her one good hand up his chest and behind his neck to clasp ahold of him. Their kiss lasted longer than the first, and even when it was over and their lips no longer touched, he rested his cheek on hers, reluctant to break the physical contact.
“This is wrong,” he professed softly.
“Agreed,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper that inflamed his desire.
He claimed her lips again, stroking the seam with his tongue until she opened for him. Expectantly this time, their tongues touched in a delicate dance. He cocked his head to the side and deepened the kiss.
It might have been only a minute or so, but it felt as if time had halted and they stood by the velvet curtain with their mouths melded for eternity. His body thrummed with pleasure, imagining taking Beatrice to bed, worshiping her as he wanted to, pleasuring her as she deserved. He knew their union would be glorious.
Her fingers slid from his hair, and she pulled away, but his own hands were still holding her head gently.
She looked confused, which was no surprise since this impossible longing was an utterly confusing matter.
“I believe that time I was dallying with you, Miss Rare-Foure.”
“And I, you,” she confessed. “but I know it was terribly wrong.”
For so many reasons, she was absolutely correct.
“Undoubtedly wrong,” he concluded. “It was probably our being alone in close quarters that did it. We were overcome with fervent magnetism.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Magnetism. It need never happen again. I mean, itshouldnot.”
“Of course not,” Greer said, releasing her, trying to disregard the feel of her silken hair, soft skin, and plump lips. But inside, some part of him was protesting the thought of never kissing her again.And why wouldn’t he want to?She was everything he liked and wanted in a woman.
“Let me take you home,” he insisted, in case she was about to start behaving all strangely with him.
She nodded. “My hat,” she said. “Do you know how to pin one on?”
He had a frightful thought of jabbing her. “No, but I’ll hold it in place and you can pin it with one hand, can’t you?”
They managed, and he tried to keep from looking into her eyes or sniffing her delicious scent. She glanced in the mirror under the shelf containing more gloves and some stray hat pins.
“I’m not dreadfully untidy, am I?”
“No,” he assured her, feeling a lump in his throat. She looked perfect as far as he was concerned, but it seemed inappropriate to voice such an opinion.
Finally, he draped her cloak around her shoulders and took hold of a leather satchel, which she’d started to remove from a hook.
“I’ll carry it,” Greer said.
Outside the door, after turning the key in the lock, she handed it to him to put in the bag, and they started to walk north along New Bond Street.
“What do you keep in here?” he asked, wondering if he dared take her arm and thread it under his and deciding against it. “It’s quite a bit larger than those tiny bags you and your sister take to dances.”
“Bits and bobs,” she said. “Sometimes I have a book or a newspaper with me if I think I’m going to finish work early while having to stay until closing time for pesky customers.”
He smiled at her little joke. “How about a penny-dreadful?” he teased.
She gave him a sidelong glance, and he hoped he hadn’t insulted her.
